What's Mine's Mine. George MacDonaldЧитать онлайн книгу.
must be the laird himself. They had heard that he cultivated his own land, but had not therefore imagined him labouring in his own person.
In spite of the blindness produced by their conventional training, vulgarly called education, they could not fail to perceive something in the man worthy of their regard. Before them, on the alert toward his cattle, but full of courtesy, stood a dark, handsome, weather-browned man, with an eagle air, not so pronounced as his brother's. His hair was long, and almost black,—in thick, soft curls over a small, well-set head. His glance had the flash that comes of victorious effort, and his free carriage was that of one whom labour has nowise subdued, whose every muscle is instinct with ready life. True even in trifles, he wore the dark beard that nature had given him; disordered by the struggle with his bulls, it imparted a certain wild look that contrasted with his speech. Christina forgot that the man was a labourer like any other, but noted that he did not manifest the least embarrassment in their presence, or any consciousness of a superfluity of favour in their approach: she did not know that neither would his hired servant, or the poorest member of his clan. It was said of a certain Sutherland clan that they were all gentlemen, and of a certain Argyll clan that they were all poets; of the Macruadhs it was said they were both. As to Mercy, the first glance of the chiefs hazel eyes, looking straight into hers with genial respect, went deeper than any look had yet penetrated.
Ladies in Alister's fields were not an everyday sight. Hardly before had his work been enlivened by such a presence; and the joy of it was in his eyes, though his behaviour was calm. Christina thought how pleasant it would be to have him for a worshipping slave—so interpenetrated with her charms that, like Una's lion, he would crouch at her feet, come and go at her pleasure, live on her smiles, and be sad when she gave him none. She would make a gentleman of him, then leave him to dream of her! It would be a pleasant and interesting task in the dullness of their winter's banishment, with the days so short and the nights so unendurably long! The man was handsome!—she would do it!—and would proceed at once to initiate the conquest of him!
The temptation to patronize not unfrequently presents an object for the patronage superior to the would-be patron; for the temptation is one to which slight persons chiefly are exposed; it affords an outlet for the vague activity of self-importance. Few have learned that one is of no value except to God and other men. Miss Palmer worshipped herself, and therefore would fain be worshipped—so dreamed of a friendship de haut en bas with the country fellow.
She put on a smile—no difficult thing, for she was a good-natured girl. It looked to Alister quite natural. It was nevertheless, like Hamlet's false friends, "sent for."
"Do you like ploughing?" she asked.
Had she known the manners of the country, she would have added "laird," or "Macruadh."
"Yes I do," Alister answered; "but I should plough all the same if I did not. It has to be done."
"But why should YOU do it?"
"Because I must," laughed the laird.
What ought she to answer? Should she condole with the man because he had to work? It did not seem prudent! She would try another tack!
"You had some trouble with your oxen! We saw it from the road, and were quite frightened. I hope you are not hurt."
"There was no danger of that," answered Alister with a smile.
"What wild creatures they are! Ain't it rather hard work for them? They are so small!"
"They are as strong as horses," answered the laird. "I have had my work to break them! Indeed, I can hardly say I have done it yet! they would very much like to run their horns into me!"
"Then it MUST be dangerous! It shows that they were not meant to work!"
"They were meant to work if I can make them work."
"Then you approve of slavery!" said Mercy
She hardly knew what made her oppose him. As yet she had no opinions of her own, though she did catch a thought sometimes, when it happened to come within her reach. Alister smiled a curious smile.
"I should," he said, "if the right people were made slaves of. I would take shares in a company of Algerine pirates to rid the social world of certain types of the human!"
The girls looked at each other. "Sharp!" said Christina to herself.
"What sorts would you have them take?" she asked.
"Idle men in particular," answered Alister.
"Would you not have them take idle ladies as well?"
"I would see first how they behaved when the men were gone."
"You believe, then," said Mercy, "we have a right to make the lower animals work?"
"I think it is our duty," answered Alister. "At all events, if we do not, we must either kill them off by degrees, or cede them this world, and emigrate. But even that would be a bad thing for my little bulls there! It is not so many years since the last wolf was killed—here, close by! and if the dogs turned to wolves again, where would they be? The domestic animals would then have wild beasts instead of men for their masters! To have the world a habitable one, man must rule."
"Men are nothing but tyrants to them!" said Christina.
"Most are, I admit."
Ere he could prevent her, she had walked up to the near bull, and begun to pat him. He poked a sharp wicked horn sideways at her, catching her cloak on it, and grazing her arm. She started back very white. Alister gave him a terrible tug. The beast shook his head, and began to paw the earth.
"It wont do to go near him," he said. "—But you needn't be afraid; he can't touch you. That iron band round his nose has spikes in it."
"Poor fellow!" said Christina; "it is no wonder he should be out of temper! It must hurt him dreadfully!"
"It does hurt him when he pulls against it, but not when he is quiet."
"I call it cruel!"
"I do not. The fellow knows what is wanted of him—just as well as any naughty child."
"How can he when he has no reason!"
"Oh, hasn't he!"
"Animals have no reason; they have only instinct!"
"They have plenty of reason—more than many men and women. They are not so far off us as pride makes most people think! It is only those that don't know them that talk about the instinct of animals!"
"Do you know them?"
"Pretty well for a man; but they're often too much for me."
"Anyhow that poor thing does not know better."
"He knows enough; and if he did not, would you allow him to do as he pleased because he didn't know better? He wanted to put his horn into you a moment ago!"
"Still it must be hard to want very much to do a thing, and not be able to do it!" said Mercy.
"I used to feel as if I could tear my old nurse to pieces when she wouldn't let me do as I wanted!" said Christina.
"I suppose you do whatever you please now, ladies?"
"No, indeed. We wanted to go to London, and here we are for the winter!"
"And you think it hard?"
"Yes, we do."
"And so, from sympathy, you side with my cattle?"
"Well—yes!"
"You think I have no right to keep them captive, and make them work?"
"None at all," said Christina.
"Then it is time I let them go!"
Alister made for the animals' heads.
"No, no! please don't!" cried both the girls, turning, the one white, the other red.
"Certainly not if you do not wish it!" answered Alister, staying his step. "If I did, however,